Hoplophobia
by Silk Spectre
Summary: The Doctor's fear of guns is taken to a whole new level in the Year that Never was. A twisted peek at just one of the nights where the Doctor was at the Master's mercy, and the Master has never been known for being merciful. MATURE FOR A REASON.
1. Doctor's Turn

Doctor Who fic, Master/Doctor, in the year that never was. The Master has some fun playing with the doctor, rated M for twisted torture and abuse. Will write more chapters if told to.

BBC owns these two, not me.

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I can hear Jacks' screams quiet. It's terrible, but I wish they wouldn't stop. They only stop when Koschei is done playing with him, when Jack is allowed to rest. When Jack is resting, it's my turn. It's so selfish of me to wish that Jack would be tortured for an eternity just so I could be spared. It's sick of me to be so afraid, Me, the Doctor, the Healer. I am Merlin and Muldwych, I am the oncoming storm. The Time Lord Victorious; I am the Destroyer of Worlds, Quiquaequod. I am powerful and endless, I lord over time itself, I am Time's Champion! This shame and fear is foolish.

And I am a fool. I am simply ΘΣ. I am not an alpha. I am lost in my thoughts when I feel the pain of time being turned back, my cage becoming much too small as I return to my tenth incarnation. Bars dig into the flesh of my back, and bump into my knees. The Master reaches through the bars to poke at my skin.

"Thete. Good to see you." He chuckles. No one's called me Thete, not since Drax. Stupid Drax...

"Koschei. 'Fraid I can't quite return the sentiment." I know my good humor grates on him. I know that I ought not annoy someone who wants to torture me, someone who has the upper hand, who has access to my naked flesh beyond metal bars. I wince as I hear his mockery of my invention, his sonic screwdriver focusing mere inches from my scalp, opening the cage. The walls fall away like petals of a flower, leaving me vulnerable in the center.

I want to run. I want to run more than I've ever wanted to run in my life. But if I do that he'll just zap me into unconsciousness, making me more helpless while he waits for me to wake up, waiting until I've returned to full strength before lecturing me. If only it was simply lectures, perhaps I'd be not so afraid. But every day it's different. The same words, the same speech, but different pain. He must run out of ways to make me whimper and scream. He must. It's been months, he's going to run out of ideas at some point.

So I keep thinking, but every day, something different, something so humiliating and painful that I almost hold a respectful awe for his twisted imagination. Almost. He grabs my hair, pulling me upright. I grit my teeth. I don't know why I bother, if he wants me to scream, he'll manage it somehow.

"Thete... I wonder why you trouble yourself like this. You could join me, you know." Well that's new...but just as insane and insipid as any other rambling he's given while he beats me.

"Never. I'd never join you. I'm not like you." I manage to gather what little saliva I have in my mouth and spit at him. It misses his shoe by an inch and a half, but the insult is still there. He pushes me to the floor, giving me a kick in the gut.

"That wasn't very kind, Thete."

"Stop calling me that! I'm the Doctor! I'm not Theta!"

"Not anymore, but that doesn't mean I shan't use the word if I find it most fitting, Theta Sigma. I know all your names, I choose to use this one. If you have a problem with it, than t'is entirely _your_ problem. Not mine."

He circles me, like a jackal. "What do you want? What will make you stop this madness?!"

"I don't want for anything right now, 'Doctor'. I have everything I could possibly wish for. Unimaginable wealth, a trophy wife, power beyond compare, a great body and a perfect health. I have servants that serve me out of fear for their lives, and such entertainment, the man that never dies. And I have you... " His patent leather shoe rubs my chest. "Don't I, Theta."

I hesitate, and his shoe comes down on my hand. Not hard enough for the bones to break, but the threat is clear. "Yes! You have me. You have Theta!" I hate myself as I hear a whimper escape my throat. I'm letting him win...but his foot moves away from my hand.

"That's a good boy..." He bends down to pet my hair. It must feel greasy by now, it feels like ages since I've been allowed to bathe. Months of sweat and piss and fear. I'm disgusting.

"I hate you." The words slip out before I can even think them, and I cower immediately, expecting harsh consequences.

"You don't mean that." He continues to stroke my hair, then cups my face. My eyes are closed, I can't deal with this. I wish he'd hit me, I'd deal with that better than this sour gentleness, these sickening caresses.

"Just tell me what you want, leave me alone... leave everyone alone." My words come out as a lament, often repeated, almost meaningless.

"Forget about what I want. What do you want, Theta?" I'm stunned, and I say something stupid. I should have asked for freedom, if not for me than for Tish's family, for Jack. But the words are out before I think, and freedom is too impossible anyway.

"I want a bath." I curse my stupidity.

"That can be arranged." And he picks me up. I must be half starved, to be this frail... I open my eyes a crack to look at my ribs. They show clearly, easily countable. I should have asked for food. No! I should have asked for freedom. I'm so stupid. I cling to him desperately.

"Please, don't... Please... j-just let me go. Let Tish go. Let Jack go. Let them go."

"Theta... hush... you know I can't do that. You might ruin my plans, and that just wouldn't do.... but a bath, that's a nice, sensible request... " He sets me down on a cold tile floor, gooseflesh rising as I hiss an intake of breath. Water starts to run.

"Cold." I shiver slightly as he leaves me on my back, curled in the fetal position. "So cold."

"It's okay Theta. You'll be alright... everything is so much easier if you co-operate... open your eyes." His voice is gentle, caring. I obey.

"Ow." The light is too bright, everything is too white. He's kept me in the dark too long, I feel blind. I blink away natural tears.

"Oh.... Theta, I'm sorry..." I feel his fingers on my face, trailing the droplets of salt water. He's made me cry before, he hasn't cared.

"Wh-why are you being so nice to me?" He picks me up again, I can't help but turn to face him, my hair brushing his chest, my face nudging his silk shirt. He lowers me into hot water, my bruises aching anew. My arms and legs stiffen, pushing away from the bottom of the deep tub.

"Too hot!" I cling to him more, getting him wet. His gentleness fades.

"Ungrateful little wretch." He holds me under the water, it's too hot, I can't breathe. I try to scream, watching my voice turn to bubbles before my blinking eyes. The water makes the vision of his face fracture, shatter, undulate. I have to close my eyes, I hold what little breath I still have, thrashing my fists and kicking my feet, splashing the water. My muscles fatigue easily, I hear my hearts pounding, bump-bu-bump-bu, the Master's rhythm. I calm myself, giving into death, bracing myself to purposefully inhale water...

And he pulls me up, delivering a sharp slap to my soaked skin. I cough what water did get into my lungs before gasping at the impact.

"Ow." My breathing is ragged, I am livid, I want to strike back... but he grabs my wrists. I know I'm weak, and whatever flash of fierceness that may have been in my eyes is soon gone as I calm and remember my helplessness.

"Now Theta... being thankful would be far more thoughtful." He lets my wrists go, grabbing soap, lathering a sponge.

"Yes, Koschei." I speak like a cyberman, automatically, without life. He starts to wash my back.

"Koschei is gone, 'Doctor'. Do refer to me by my title, or I'll have to be rough with you. And I would just _hate_ to be rough with one of the last of the Chronarchs."

I whimper. "Yes Master." The name is poison on my tongue. But he continues to clean my back, using lotions. It all smells so heavenly, like the fields of Gallifrey, like home...I find my muscles relaxing against my will, my head lolling to the side. I'm so weak. I don't protest, I _can't_ protest as his fingers move to my chest, cleaning, then moving to my neck, throat, face... He's everywhere, I can't keep track.

"Such a good boy, Theta." He washes my hair, the scent of home washing my mind of all the beatings, all the pain, all the humiliation... for a moment.

"Ahnoohh..." It crashes down as I realize I've let out a moan. My eyes are wide and fearful as I wonder if he heard it. His chuckle tells me he did.

"Such a good boy indeed, Theta. You like my hands in your hair?"

"Y-yes." He tugs lightly, and I correct myself. "Yes M-Master."

He starts to rinse the suds from my scalp, warm water amazing against my skin. After the weeks of being confined to a cramped cage, let out only to be beaten mercilessly, this is heaven. I don't care as his hands begin to wander again, as he moves me so he can clean my feet, my calves, my knees...as he tilts my chin, looking me in the eyes as he washes behind my ears. I'm a ragdoll, a child, I have no fight left in me.

"Theta, you act like a shell... is the Doctor even in there?"

I shrug. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to talk at all. I close my eyes, sinking into the warm water... it takes me a moment before I feel his finger tips at my temple. He hasn't done this. I've wondered, but so far he'd only been physical in his abuse. I assumed even he had a limit, a level of decency. I try to squirm away, trapped in the tub.

"N-no. Noo." His other hand goes to my newly washed hair, holding me still.

"Theta, open your mind."

"No! Never, Koschei, Never!" I splash around more, feeling like a fish out of water. Stupidly, I glace at his eyes, and find myself trapped. His mind, entering mine. It's violation, brutal and sharp and painful. It's rape. Memories flash before my inner eye as he rips through all of my defenses. He tears through walls in my mind, I'm sure I'm screaming but I can't hear it. The memories are almost as painful as the way he pries them from my mental cavity.

"My my, Theta, you really did earn the name Karshtakavaar. You simply are a destroyer of worlds... so many dead... so many lives ruined." I don't know if he's speaking verbally or not, but his voice echoes in my skull. He goes deeper, before the last 800 years. He goes to childhood. I try to break away, I'm not even sure if my physical body is moving, but my mind tries to flee in terror. Surely I'm saying no. Surely by now I'm screaming, surely someone will help me.

He flicks past university, past the meetings of the Deca, all the way to before the drumming, before the schizm. Before the insanity. Back to when we were friends. Back to when we were all the other had. Distantly, I know I'm crying, sobbing, just as when I was seven years old, before I was the doctor, before I was even Thete, before things were complicated.

The bully. Faceless now, blurred by the hands of time. Larger than life, kicking Koschei relentlessly, yelling insults long forgotten. I watch in horror, watch as the beating takes a different, more brutal turn. I remember squirming against hands holding me back, people making me watch, my screams muffled by many, forcing me to stay still. I don't recall how I broke free, just a flurry of activity, boys running, the one who was panting over Koshei now bleeding under me, begging me to stop as I keep hitting, I just keep hitting and hitting and hitting until he's still and harmless. Until he's nothing. Until he's dead. Koschei holds me as I cry over the body, unable to comprehend what I just did, what I just saved my friend from, none of it able to sink in, my universe reduced to a seven year old's arms, holding me as a sob even as he sobs on my shoulder in return.

Slowly I am returned to reality, Saxon's shirt soaked with water as he holds me, letting me cry on him, his own eyes dry. When my tears and sobs subside, he speaks.

"I never would have thought that you had loved me, Theta."

"I d-don't. I h-hate you. I h-hate you so much. I h-hate you." I pound weakly against his chest, my fist-falls lighter than rain. I see why he wasn't like this before. Before I would have had a fighting chance.

"It's not hate I saw in your thoughts, not in the academy." He holds me still as I struggle in his arms.

"Let me Go!" It comes out more as a whine than a yell. His fingertips find my temple again, my mind is forced into brutally once more. He's searching for something, he is unsatisfied that he cannot find it. He's focusing on the companions, the kisses, the unrequited love on their part. On Rose. On Tish. On Ace. He goes all the way back to Barbara Wright. He cannot find what he's looking for. He gives up, withdrawing less gently than before, making me sob in pain and mental anguish.

"It's not there. Where are you keeping those thoughts, Doctor, those memories?"

"I d-don't know what you're talking about!" He's insane. He's truly absolutely insane. Beyond insane.

"Unclean thoughts. You've not had a breath of sexuality in your mind since university, since the Deca! You've not bothered to think about it. You've surrounded yourself with pretty young women, the occasional little male, and yet... nothing. Where are you hiding, Doctor!"

He breaks me a third time, searching relentlessly. I feel I'd be sick if I had anything to be sick with.

"P-please. Stop. I d-don't know... I... I j-just haven't. I haven't th-thought about s-such things.. p-please st-stop hurting me."

"Hush, Theta, I haven't even begun to harm you." He rubs my back, some pale comfort compared to the torture he has put me through.

"Please.... please... a-anything. Ju-just stop." I cling to his shirt, holding myself close, the cold air on my dripping body making me shiver, his skin warm and inviting in comparison.

He pauses. "Poor Theta. Poor little time lord victorious." He pets my hair briefly, then finds a towel and begins to try me off, being none to shy with my tormented body. I do nothing to stop him. He finishes drying me, running fingers through my hair to spike it, and carries me.

I expect my cage, I close my eyes and try to relax, knowing the pain that is to come of the aging will be excruciating... "Please... just let me go..."

I am snapped out of my pleading as I feel myself being set upon something soft. I blink my eyes open. A bed. A sense of foreboding overrides my senses, and I lean upright, needing to run.

"You're not going anywhere, my little Gandalf." He forces me to the mattress, pinning my limbs individually to tie them to each corner of the bed. I feel exposed, and even more helpless. I stare at the ceiling.

"Please. Please, don't. For the sake of decency, just put me back in the cage... "

He slaps me across the face again, and this time I taste blood. "No. Now stay."

And he leaves. I'm alone. Oh God I'm so alone. I wonder if he'll just let me die here... I tug the bonds, to no avail. I am trapped. I speak to no one.

"Please please please oh God just let me go. Just let me go I need out of here!" It suddenly occurs to me that just I could hear Jack's pleading, Jack and Tish can likely hear me. I musn't worry them. I mustn't let them know what's going on. I shut my mouth, biting my lip. There are few things I can do at this point to maintain whatever fictional pride and dignity I have left, but by God what I can do, I will.

I close my eyes, trying to relax. It's a nice bed, it's warm, and welcoming. I am almost asleep when The Master returns. I open my eyes warily as I hear a clink on the bedside table. A bowl, steam rising from it... he undoes my bindings only to tie me up more creatively, keeping me stuck in a seated position.

"Hungry?"

I shake my head, but my stomach growls. I hate it so much. Saxon laughs.

"Clearly you're lying... I don't know if I should reward such behavior with food. Then again... Doctor, have you ever fucked a corpse?"

I shudder as much as possible in revulsion. He's been in my mind, he knows I'd never do anything like that. "Why on Earth?! No!" I try to edge away, falling onto my side. He pulls me upright by my hair. He knows I love my hair.

He laughs as I squirm, tears springing to my eyes. He fills a spoon with soup, then holds it to my lips. I want to spit, but I daren't. I'm so hungry. Saxon puts the tray on the bed, the bowl in the center of the tray, and lays the spoon aside. He pushes me onto my stomach, mere inches from the bowl.

"Go on little Theta, Eat." I wriggle, my face finding the bowl, and I devour the soup quickly, not caring as it burns my lips and tongue. I'm so hungry, my belly is like a beast, roaring for more. I can't help but give in to it, licking the bowl clean, licking as much as my face clean as I can. I lay on my side, panting. I didn't know I was capable of eating like that.

"So it came to pass, that the Great Doctor fell... and his hope was no more. And I looked down upon my new acquisition, as Master of all, and I thought it... good. Are you better, Theta? More flesh on your bones?"

I wince as I realize the significance of his corpse comment. Again I panic. "Oh ... Oh God you -wouldn't-."

And again his hands are upon me, caressing lewdly, making my skin crawl. "Oh but perhaps I would." He leans over me, licking what soup I missed from my cheeks, putting the tray aside. "Do tell me the truth..."

"Anything. I'll tell you anything."

"Have you honestly never taken advantage of one of those women you're so often with?"

"The... the companions? N-no.... never... " I shake my head. The food has done me well, the half nap as well... "No... they don't interest me that way. They were for company, for sharing the adventures with."

"Not for bedding." He scoffs slightly. "Do you like the look of my wife?"

I stare at him, not sure if this is a trick question or not. I frown. He laughs.

"Not your type I take it. What about Jack?"

"What about him?"

"You're in his mind. He's not so much in yours. He's got you and that Ianto fellow, giving him hope... you have no hope, doctor."

"I don't need hope. I don't need any of that nonsense. You will lose this. I will win. That is -all-." I know the fierceness is back. I know it's dangerous, that I'm risking a slap. I don't care. I'm strong, I'm young, I am full of 'piss and vinegar' as the saying goes. I wrinkle my nose as he begins to laugh.

"Now _there _is the Doctor. It will be fun to break you again. I thought you'd completely gone, but if you're still here, then I can still have fun."

Dammit. Dammit all. I ought to act submissive, meek, make him lose interest... but then would would keep him from killing me? At least if he's having fun with me, I have a purpose, something that will keep me alive. Is it worth it? I don't know. I can't know. But dammit I'll be finding out the hard way.

"Then have your fun. See if I care." I know there's a challenge in my voice, I know that I'm being stupidly difficult. I know that I practically deserve whatever he's going to dish out, I may as well be directly asking for it. But I don't know what he's going to do. I just have an ever present sinking feeling that I'm going to regret it.

"Don't get snippy with me, bitch." He tugs my hair lightly, a warning. I'm not so dense as to not take it. I sullenly stare at the ceiling.

"Just do it already. Just... do it. I know you're going to." I want to cry, but will be damned if I show any more weakness.

"I haven't the foggiest notion what you're talking about..." He runs a finger along my skin, making me jerk and shiver. "Enlighten me."

"Oh shove it." I'm getting terribly sick of this charade. He has me at his mercy, he has had me like this for months. If he's going to do something, anything, there's not a bloody thing I can do to stop him. Just lay back and think of England, that's what used to tell girls, right? This is hardly my wedding night, but it ought to do.

I'm jolted from that frame of thought as Saxon slaps me. "Respect, Theta."

"I saved your life, Koschei. Where's your gratitude?"

He slaps me again, and again, and again, my head soon ringing as some of his blows hit my ears, his open hand curling into a fist. Before I know it's he's got me on my back, is straddling me, punching again and again, my mouth full of blood.

I spit at him. He's infuriated. Reasonably so I suppose, I think blood tends to ruin silk. As if the water hadn't...

"These clothes are worth more than you are! How DARE you be so insolent!"

And I start to laugh. His rage, it's not funny, he's going to beat me, it's going to hurt, but somehow, I just don't care. I've slipped past whatever bonds me to reality. I am Time Lord Victorious. Nothing can stop me, I am the last of my kind. I am the last that is whole, for this pitiful creature is not a Time Lord, not in the true sense. This miserable beast is insane, driven mad by imagined constant war drums.

"You can't hurt me." Four words, spilling past my laughing lips. He hits me again and again, but somehow I just feel it. He leaves the room in a huff, and for the moment I think I've won. Yay me.

Yet he returns shortly, a sly smile on his face. "In your mind, do you know what I found?"

"Good will t'wards man?" I shouldn't be joking. I am in no position to be joking.

"No...." His face turns sour for a moment before he smiles. "Hoplophobia."

I blink, feigning ignorance to the term. "Bless you."

He frowns again, bringing forth a small handgun. I start to sweat, gulping back fear. "Now put that away, before someone gets hurt."

"The only one who'll get hurt is you, Theta, if you don't co-operate."

"Why do people think that being at gunpoint encourages compliance?" I muse, wanting him to point that thing anywhere but at me.

"Because it does, you silly little brat... now open your mouth."

My eyes widen, my mouth clamps shut, and I shake my head. My confidence is dwindling. He wouldn't. But I know he would. And he will.

"If you don't open it, you're going to like what I'm about to do even less. So open your damn mouth and co-operate for once, Theta."

I turn my head away, but slowly open my mouth. He takes my chin and forces me to face him, shoving the barrel down my throat, hitting my teeth and making me choke. There's no give, I gag, soup rising in my esophagus. He pulls it out and inspects it, unsatisfied. I've barely swallowed down the burning liquid before he shoves it past my lips again.

"Lick it."

I blink, eyes watering, the metal tasting horrible, making me cringe. I find myself whimpering, hearing him switch off the safety making me slobber on it wantonly before pulling away. "Oh God don't shoot me. Don't shoot me, please. Oh God don't."

He inspects it again, silently, ignoring my pleading for a moment. "You said I can't hurt you. Clearly I wasn't trying hard enough."

I sob. I'm not stupid. Naive occasionally, perhaps. Inexperienced, of course. Optimistic, rather often, thank you very much. But there's no way what he was about to do could be good. There was only one reason I could think of for these kinds of actions. I wonder briefly if he did this to Jack. If he pulled the trigger, killed Jack that way. It's too horrible to contemplate, I have to focus on something else. The Master grabs my attention forcefully, tugging on my more sensitive parts, eliciting a yelp.

"Ahn! Stop!" I squirm against the bindings, only to be pulled and tied differently, spread eagle on the bed. I thrash as hard as I can, uselessly. All of it's so useless. "Stop, that HURTS!"

He laughs. "I was hoping it would. Do you respect me yet? Am I more powerful than you yet, 'Doctor'?" He holds my groin in a painful grip, his other hand pushing the gun against my tight ring of muscles.

"Yes! Yes Master. Oh God don't do this, Please!" I'm frantic now, crying, both out of pain and anticipation of further pain. Yet he only seems thrilled by my panic, my hearts beating faster than I thought possible, the blood pounding in my ears, his beat overwhelming me as he pushes the into me in one swift motion, everything overwhelming me and briefly becoming black.

Darkness, safe and unfeeling darkness. I cling to it desperately, even as the Master holds smelling salts under my nose. I'll be damned if I let him bring me to consciousness, and I actively fight against it. I distantly feel him slap my face, and then he puts a hand over my mouth and nose. My eyes widen as I feel myself being dragged into alertness, struggling to breathe past his fingers, muscles going taught, and suddenly every nerve screaming. He left the gun in me. He removes his hand to hear my screams. I forget about Jack, and Tish, I can't bring myself to care about how this may affect them. I scream, louder than I thought I could. It echoes, maybe only in my head. I hope only in my head. Eventually I run out of air. I know I'm going into shock. My hands tremble against their restrictions, my legs are trying to snap shut. My eyes are glazing over.

"Now now... c'mon, it can't be that bad..." He tries to arouse me, failing terribly. How in hell can he expect me to want this? To have any modicum of pleasure from such pain?

"I should have let him rape and kill you." My words are through gritted teeth, and I have never wished such things upon anyone before. "I should have killed you myself, ages ago. I should have... ah... No!"

I scream again as he take the gun and begins to thrust it in and out. I feel my throat become raw as I scream for what seems like hours. He turns the safety on and off, to hear the change of tone as my panic increases or decreases. He pulls the hammer back every now and again to hear me beg, sob, plead, and pray. I make promises, I swear revenge, I cry myself dry of tears. I can feel and smell blood pooling on the sheets between my legs.

After what feels like days, I am finally too tired and weak to protest, my yells and screams now hoarse mewls of pain, my threats simply whimpers.

"Tired, Theta?"

I nod, feeling sick, so sick... He removes the gun, finally, and my body feels empty and used. I tremble all over, unable to react in any other way. The Master's face shows concern, of all things.

"Are you alright? You don't look so good... " He manages barely to have the bowl from my soup under my chin as I lean as much as I can to vomit. I'm sick until I can be sick no more, it feels like gallons, but I barely cover the bottom of the bowl.

I let out a broken half sob. Remotely, some part of me is aware the Master is undoing my bonds. That small part of me still has the will to run. It is very small, and greatly outweighed by my need to stay still, to close my eyes, to pretend this didn't just happen. I shudder as much as my tense and tired body will allow when I realize the Master is stroking my hair.

"Good little Theta... good boy... You did good... I'm proud." I want to scream obscenities at him, but instead I close my eyes and sleep. I nightmare, of course, but when I wake up Saxon is gone. For a moment I contemplate running, and it seems to be a good idea. Upon sitting up I realize my folly, immediately lying down again. I gasp and my hands fly to my rear. The blood is dried, making it all that more awkward and painful. I start to cry, and Saxon returns.

"Ah, pet, you're awake. Thirsty?"

I nod, mutely. He holds a bottle of water to my lips, tilting it so the liquid slides down my eager throat.

"There you go... now I'm afraid you're going to go back in your cage, I've got to have a maid clean the sheets..." I don't even bother to struggle as he picks me up, taking me back to the main room, blood still on my thighs. The agony of being aged feels like nothing, my soul is numb. I think in an offhand way about how Tish will see the blood, how she'll know something happened, how she may worry. I can't bring myself to care. I hold the bars and look at nothing with large dull eyes.

The Master pets my head through the bars. "Until next time, Doctor."

I cringe. I don't want there to be a 'next time'.

But there will be. There always is.


	2. Jack's Turn Again

Doctor Who fic, Master/Doctor, in the year that never was. The Master has some fun playing with the doctor, rated M for twisted torture and abuse. Will write more chapters if told to. POV is from Jack this time...

BBC owns these two, not me.

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I can hear the docs' screams quiet. I've never heard him scream like that. I can only pray that Saxon is done with him, that he'll be allowed to rest. He's been screaming for about an hour now. I know that he managed to keep quiet for a while, the Master Time Lord has a schedule. Breakfast with the wife, a quarter hour giving instructions to his minions, a half hour looking down at the world he rules. A light snack as he starts to lay into me, usually starting with verbal assault, spraying bits of apple or orange from his mouth as he yells insults and berates me for my uselessness. Then pain. Hours of pain. Sometimes a break for lunch. Lately he's let me eat, after letting me die of starvation once... God, I don't understand what it is about me dying that amuses him so much. Sick bastard.

I haven't been able to feel my fingers in weeks, being suspended by my wrists is an agony. Not a big agony, compared to other things, but still an agony. Yes, I believe the doctor is finally done being abused. Must mean it's nearly dinner time. I force a smile when Tish appears with a bowl of gruel.

"Jack." She nods. No one knows what to say anymore. Any kind of encouragement has long since become a stupid thing to utter. We all know we're royally fucked.

"Tish. Being treated alright?" I don't know why I ask. If she's not, I doubt she'd tell me, and if she did say something was happening to her, what would I be able to do about it?

"Fine Jack. Open up..." She feeds me. It's awkward, but manageable. When the shallow bowl is empty, she takes a cloth and wipes the blood and any spilled bits of the meal from my chest. My pants are tattered and stained but still in one piece. At least Saxon allows Me and Tish some token dignities. Tish says the doc's been without clothes since we got here. I can't imagine The Doctor without his pinstripes. It almost makes me glad that I'm chained up here, so I can't see him. In my mind, he's unbroken, strong, and he's inches away from a plan that will get out the hell out of here.

But that was before the screams. I've never heard a man scream quite like that, and I've heard a lot of screams. Wars of screams, tortures beyond most people's imaginations, hell I've let out more than my fair share of bloodcurdling yelps lately. But it wasn't like that from the Doctor. I can't imagine what must have been done to make him that loud, that scared, that... desperately broken and inhuman.. There was deeply primal tone to it, something... visceral implied. I hesitate before asking Tish. "Did you see what happened to the Doc?"

Her dark skin pales slightly as she shakes her head, hiding under her maid bonnet. "But you heard? I mean, I could hear it, surely everyone heard it." She nods, wiping away blood and sweat from my stomach.

"You'll let me know if he's okay, right? I mean... if you can? I-" I shut up, staring behind her. Saxon's back. This isn't right, he should be eating dinner with his wife. There's blood on his shirt, his hair is mussed in a bed-headed way. His hands are covered in blood. I feel I may be sick.

"Maid, the second spare bedroom needs new bedding. Then make sure little Gandalf gets a warm meal, he earned it. Go -now-."

She scurries off like a mouse, not daring to look up at him. Good girl, if she looked into his eyes, or even just glimpsed his hands, she'd be even more frightened. She didn't dry me off, my stomach muscles cold as the recycled air of the Valiant drafts across me. I shake my head a bit, droplets of water flying in all directions, like a dog. I pull against my chains, not caring that he's watching. One day these will come loose. And then I'm going to break every bone in his body.

"Don't you have something better to do?" I almost snarl at him. He causes me pain, but in the long run he is nothing but an annoyance. He continues to just watch me, and then he licks his lips. Oh shit. I know that look. I pull all the harder on my chains. I haven't seen that look since John was in town.

"Wife's off shopping, or something. Damned if I know or care... you know 'Jack', you're a rather pretty man."

I gulp. "Oh shove it." I squirm against my bonds as he comes closer, close enough to touch my temple with his fingers. The pain is blinding, like nothing he's ever done before. He's been in my mind several times by now, but not like this. Not so roughly, so fast. My Time Agent training kicks in a moment too late, my barriers torn through like tissue paper. He's riffling through my head, breaking my will, overturning lovers and adventures and like a burglar trashing a study. He finds what he wants soon enough, refreshing his memory, pulling away, leaving me to whimper. My lips are bleeding, I don't think I screamed.

"Ianto, Grey, and The Doctor."

I stare at him in dull shock. "Don't. Don't say anything about them, you bastard! You've talked enough about them for the past month and a half!"

"You think Ianto would want you now, if he's still alive? That your precious little band of merry men and women will rescue you? Grey may as well be fiction, he's so likely dead and buried on a different planet. Your chances of seeing him are literally zero. You won't be seeing anything outside this ship ever again. You are going to die here. I mean that -permanently-. And as for the Doctor." He chuckles to himself. "The Doctor is out."

I glare. "Of course he'd want me, and damn straight they're going to rescue me. They're going to rescue all of us. You can't win this." I refuse to talk about Grey with this pitiful excuse for a man. But his first comment bothers me. "I... why wouldn't Ianto want me. You've beaten me, killed me, sure... but... " and then it dawns on me. The look, the licked lips, the closeness. It's not what he's done, it's about what he's about to do. I thrash harder, the chains holding.

He sees the comprehension in my eyes. "Yes... damaged goods, Jack. No one wants damaged goods."

I frantically change the subject, deciding not to tell him that his wife surely has a thing for so called 'damaged goods'. "The blood on your hands. What did you do to the Doctor?!"

"Theta and I had a little bit of fun. Well I suppose he didn't find it fun at all, but I certainly did." My eyes nearly pop. "You didn't... "

"Didn't what?" He laughs a bit more. "I didn't kill him, if that's what you're wondering, but I'm sure you know that. I could never kill one of the last of my own kind. Genocide his thing, not mine."

"Oh right, because your thing is being so charming and dashing and the like." My sarcasm is dry.

"Are you flirting with me, Jack?" I stare at him blandly. Oh what the hell, I've been here for months and he's never touched me, it's not like he'll start now. And if he does... there are worse things he could do. Hell, I could almost be thankful for a lay under different circumstances.

"Yeah. Flirting with you might get me a real bed. Or at least some softer cuffs."

"Don't count on it." He runs his hands over my chest, making goosebumps rise before digging his nails into my flesh and dragging them down.

I don't dignify his efforts with any noise. He'll have to try a lot harder than that, and he knows it. "Ow." I remark. "That hurt so bad." There is literally no tone to my voice, I'm bored out of my skull. I close my eyes, actually yawning.

"Listen Saxon, if you're done here, maybe I could have a nap?" We both know I can't sleep, it's just an insult to him.

"I don't think so." My eyes open as I hear a distantly familiar click. He's got a gun. Dammit I hate guns. I mean I like using them, but being shot is a pain the ass. I stare at the gun. It's covered in blood.

"You shot the Doctor." My heart starts pounding, I pull as hard as I can on the chains. "You Shot My Doctor! You sonuvabitch!" I feel vicious.

He slaps me with the handgun, blood smearing across my cheek. "Shut up. He's not your Doctor. He's MY Doctor. MY little Theta." He laughs and trails the bloody gun across my chest, pausing with it just above my heart. "And I didn't kill him. I didn't do this."

He pulls the trigger.

I come too a few minutes later. Fucking asshole, that hurt. Ow... wait... oh Jesus. My eyes widen as I feel that not completely unfamiliar fullness. Something's different though. I struggle to turn without tensing or moving my body too much.

"What the hell are you doing back there?!" My pants are around my bound ankles, and I am NOT pleased.

"Ah, you're awake. -This- is what I did to the Doctor, since you wanted to know so badly. I have to admit he was tighter though, and far more tense... hurt him more than it's hurting you..."

He thrusts the gun inside and out, making me grit my teeth. I close my eyes, thinking of John. This is totally something John would John and I do this? Maybe. Probably. Oh yeah... but he used a rifle. And a condom. And the safety was on. Oh God he won't. I manage to force a chuckle. "Saxon, be careful 'bout the trigger, eh?"

"Oh? You don't want me to do this?" He pulls the trigger again, and though I momentarily black out, pain ripping through me, I do not die. The bullet lodges itself somewhere in one of my ribs, having torn through my intestines. I scream at the top of my lungs as I feel my stomach acid dripping into the bleeding wounds. Somewhere I'm sure I can survive this, that it will take hours to die, something like that. Oh God the PAIN.

"NO NO NO NO NO NO MAKE IT STOP!"

But The Master lounges around in front of me, going through his pockets, finding a rubber, showing it to me. "See this?" I think I nod, I'm not sure. Oh God it hurts. He undoes his zipper, baring himself for me. "See -this-?"

I start to whimper. "No no no no no please don't. Oh God... no... no please..."

I don't even pull at the chains. There's no point. I feel blood dripping down my thighs, I feel the immense internal bleeding. Maybe a good fucking will kill me. I can only hope so as The Master takes his place behind me, his hand pulling my hair to get my back to arch. I'm sobbing.

"I'm sorry Ianto.... I'm s-sorry John... S-so sorry, Doctor..." I scream again as he thrusts inside. At least he's using a condom, but I'm sure it's so that he won't get blood or acid on himself, not to spare me any kind of indignity. He slaps my ass.

"Tighten! You're bleeding too much, it's too loose." Oh if only I had teeth down there, like that one alien breed near Sigma 15. I'd castrate him without a second thought. I grind my teeth harshly, refusing to satisfy him any more than I already have with noises and screams and the like.

"Y-you did this to the D-Doctor?"

"Oh of course not. He's too fragile for such play." He continues thrusting, and I just close my eyes and bear it. I have a nice little mantra going in time with his harsh thrusts. "It could be worse, it could be worse, it could be worse, it could be worse." Ianto could be made to watch. John could be double teaming me with the Master, John knows how to harm me just as well as this psychopath. They'd be good together. I almost laugh. I think I've lost enough blood, I'd be dead soon. I so rarely look forward to death like this.

I am rattled from my thoughts as he starts to claw at my neglected junk. "HEY! Stop that!" I squirm.

He pulls my hair again, keeping me still. "I'm known a generous lover, I'm not going to make an exception that could tarnish my reputation."

"Generous?" I laugh despite my agony. "If you're generous, shoot me again. In the head this time. Make it count."

He pauses for a moment, kissing my back, musing. "As you wish."

I feel the cool metal at my temple, and moments before the trigger is pulled, I feel his pulsing in the condom. "Thank God."

Darkness, death...a welcome escape from such pain. I awake feeling good as new. Saxon is gone. I count my blessings. He's gone, my pants are up, the pain is done with. I yawn, managing to take a short nap-like rest, reorganizing my thoughts, putting things back in order from where The Master disturbed them. I come to my senses at the sound of scrubbing. Tish's washing the pool of blood from the floor underneath me.

"Sorry 'bout that." I try to be in good humor. "Not my fault I bleed like a stuck pig."

"No, of course not... You okay?"

"Good as new. Great. Bored off my ass though. You've seen the doc?"

She nods, scrubbing. She's getting quieter and quieter these days.

"Is he okay? I mean... Saxon said some really whacked out stuff..."

"The sheets were covered in blood. Almost as much blood as is here. Oh God I don't want to know... " I think she's crying. "I couldn't clean the mattress, I needed to just flip it, I hope I won't get in trouble... and the Doctor... he didn't want to eat. I had to make him.... he was crying. Good God Jack, what did that monster do to him?!"

"... You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do. My sister's a doctor god dammit!" She scrubs more furiously at the floor. "I could fix him. Maybe"

"Tish... no you can't."

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, Jack Harkness. I can do a damn sight more than you can right now. Tell me what you know, give me something _useful_."

I bite my lip. I know she's right. I sigh. "I'm...reasonably certain... he used a gun... on the doctor."

"There were no bullet wounds... but the Doctor does hate firearms..."

I give her what I believe to be a significant look. I'm losing my touch. "Are you itchy?" she asks.

"No! I ... well yeah, now that you mention it. Left foot. What I mean though is.. he ahem.. -used- a gun. You know... ah... -internal- bleeding?"

She finally gets it, dropping the scrubber. "Oh. Oh God. He told you that? He...bragged about it?"

"Not exactly." I wince. "More of a demonstration."

She hugs me gently. I don't like how she is treating me like I'm fragile, but I know damn well there's nothing to do about it.

"We're going to get out of here, Tish Jones. I promise. I swear it."

"I know, Jack. I know." She holds me briefly, and sadly picks up her scrubber and walks off. Once again, I'm alone and bored. I try to think of Ianto, of the good times. Of the future he and I will have together. It's useless. He's probably dead. Dead like so many others. One tenth of the human race.

But the Doctor isn't dead. So there's still hope. Small as it is, there is still hope. All we can do is pray that Saxon doesn't take what small hope we have away. I continue to tug at my chains.

I'm going to get out. I'm going to break every bone in Saxon's body. Again. And again. Because I have all the time in the world.


	3. Happy

Doctor Who fic, Master/Doctor, in the year that never was. The Master has some fun playing with the doctor, rated M for twisted torture and abuse. Will write more chapters if told to. Please Review, reviews are brain candy.

BBC owns these two, not me.

* * *

The events of this afternoon keep echoing through my mind. I don't know if The Master put a link in there, if he and I are connected, or ... or if it is simply my own obsessive personality keeping itself entertained. The pain has faded, but... every time I move, it flares up anew. I just wish I understood...I can't figure out why... why he did the things that he did. He held me. He caressed me. He bathed me.

He raped me, he violated me, he ruined me. He mucked about in my mind. He disordered everything, he rifled through my thoughts... it was wrong. We're taught that from day one. He knew better. He... why would he do that to me? I should be happy. He had the decency to at least not speak of the things that truly bother me. Yes, he brought up uncomfortable subjects. No, what he did wasn't right. But it wasn't the worst he could do. Not the mental trauma, at least.

Tish appears, making me eat. I don't want her to feed me, I don't want her interrupting my thoughts. She refuses to leave, she even cleans me off a little, as much as she can through the bars. I'm glad when she's gone. I don't know which is more humiliating, the confusing torture or the aftermath of pity. I'm the Doctor. I don't need pity.

As for what he did about the gun though... I wince, pain shooting up my spine again, tears filling my eyes once more. I ought to be conserving my water. What he did with the gun was wrong. I can't ... I can't fathom why he would do that. Yes, I was being mouthy... but... but I'm always mouthy when he tries to beat me, and break me. It's part of what makes me The Doctor. I'm unflappable.

I _was _unflappable. I'm... I'm thoroughly flapped now, thank you very much. See? There I go. Even my internal monologue is witty. I simply can't help myself. Even in this tiny, stupid, little alien form, I'm funny and witty and ... I may as well drop the charade. I'm so bloody scared. Martha's run off, she got away quickly enough, I have ... I have no hope. There is nothing she can do against the Master. I just ... I wish I had enough faith to be able to believe that she's hidden well enough that the Master will never find her.

But I doubt it. And when she's found, he'll kill her. He won't stand that she managed to get away. He won't stand for it.

Jack is letting out muffled screams again. The Master has broken pattern, taking his time to break down Jack twice in one day.

_**BANG**_

I am shocked out of my self loathing and disgusting self pity. A gun was just fired, my body is tensing impossibly tight. I want to make myself smaller and smaller. I want to disappear. I count the seconds...

_**BANG**_

Not three minutes later Jack lets out a bone chilling, incomprehensible scream. It lingers in the air, and his yells of pain are palpable. He should be dead. He wants to die. That kind of agony is not mean to be lived through. Several minutes pass, his screams fading, disappearing completely.... _**  
**_

_**BANG**_

I think he's dead. I hope the Master's done with him, but if he's not... I don't care. There's nothing I can do about it. I can't... I refuse to waste my energy fretting in such a useless form. Jack is a big boy, Martha a well adjusted woman. I, on the other hand, a fully grown man, can't hold my own. Every time I close my eyes I see that gun, I feel it against my teeth. For the first time in years, I find myself praying to Pazithi Gallifreya, the moon Goddess of my home planet, slipping into the complicated mathematics of my native tongue. I change logarithms and algorithms mid-beat, guilt eating at my hearts, including Jack and Martha and the Human Race in my prayers. Tears are running down my cheeks as I stumble into slurs for a moment, unable to properly pronounce what I need to express my feelings of despair. For the first time since the Time War, I feel so very acutely the two hundred and fifty million light years that are between me and my home. Between me and my children, my family, my loved ones... I just can't stop sobbing.

When my tears stop flowing, I find myself in unbearable silence. Mumbled nonsense Gallifreyan spills from my lips on reflex. Such pointless noises. As pointless as what the Master did with the gun? God, Pazithi Gallifreya, The thousands of powers that be throughout the universe... why did he do this to me? Why me? Why today? Why the sudden mix of loving touches and terrible pain? Why make me relive that day that I saved his life? Why force me to recall the lusting, trusting, less than innocent thoughts that past my mind in the days of being part of the Deca with him? Why gloss over the memories, few and precious, of my wife, spending time with her at our loom, preventing Lungbarrow from becoming a broken house.

My wife. My children. The tears won't stop. Each time I let a shuddering sob fully take place, more tears come from the pain. I lay as best I can on the bottom of the cage. This is so... terrible. I'm at the lowest possible point in my life. I cannot possibly sink any deeper in pain and sorrow and confusion. My Earth is at my feet in tatters. My home is locked in time, the death of my family an unknown certainty. My friends are being tortured, physically and mentally. The sadistic bastard who is putting all this in motion is not only unstoppable, but was my childhood friend.

I recall hearing a rumor that the Other's biofeed was in the loom of every member of the Deca. That makes The Master and I related. Through loom, and not even cousins, but we have that same scary life spark. The only difference between the Master and I, other than the obvious insanity, is how seriously we took our oaths. _"I swear to protect the ancient Law of Gallifrey with all my might and brain. I will to the end of my days with justice and with honour temper my actions and my thoughts."_

He crossed his fingers, closed his mind, didn't care. Doesn't care. Destruction like this, in the face of the Shadow Proclamation...it is despicable. I'm The Doctor. I take my oath seriously. Deadly seriously. Yet what can I do to uphold the law right now? What can I do? I should just die. Just lay down and let him do what he wants and when he finally goes to far, not regenerate. I'm so useless, I may as well just let myself go. I startle as I realize I'm not alone. The Master, his hair dripping wet, shirtless, clearly just out of a shower.

"I didn't expect you to get gjara'vont on me, Theta Sigma."

"I'm... how can you not anticipate me to be dwelling on dark thoughts right now, Koschei?"

"It's not a good day to be so glum, chum." He lets my use of his nickname pass. I am thankful for the small things. I am not thankful for him unlocking my cage and letting me go back to my normal self, his fingers harsh on my scalp, gripping my hair so I can't run.

"Why. Why are you doing this?" He tugs me back to the bedroom of this afternoon's activities. I feel fear welling in my chest, but I dare not run. He'll only hurt me more if I run. He pushes me onto the bed, and I don't sit up, my legs pressing closed before I even land, my hands modestly covering my most vulnerable pieces. He looks down at me before answering.

"You have no idea what day it is." He chuckles. I change the subject.

"Is Jack okay? I heard.... I heard you shoot him."

The laughter is just harder. "Nothing he can't handle, trust me."

I cringe, but I know that Jack can handle almost anything. I do know that. He's indestructible.

"... are you going to be nice to me, or are you going to hurt me more?" It seems like a fair question, though I can't stand how timid my voice sounds.

The Master looks at me gently, leaning over to cup my face in his hands. "That's up to you, Theta. Are you going to be a good boy?"

I bite my tongue, I manage to stay still. "Yes, Master." I feel sick, but this is what he wants to hear. I'm sure that if I play my cards right, he'll put me back in the cage and leave me be.

He starts kissing my face, kissing away all the tears. I hate to admit that it feels good, comforting... it is gentle. I need all the gentleness I can get right now.

"I want you to do something for me, little Theta Sigma..." He continues with his kisses.

"Yes, Master? What is it..." I'm wary, and his lips stray over my eyelids.

"Say it right. Say my name in it's purest form. Use our language. Do the math."

I hesitate, trying to recall just how one would say it, which of the million letters would be formed, to sum up what this monster is... " Meyopapa." I pause. "Is that right?"

He nods, brushing his cheek against mine. "Very right....good job..." He shifts from beside me to over me, the rough material of his pants harsh against my lower stomach. I wince. "Something wrong, little one?" The worried look in his eyes, even in this dim light...

"I'm... I'm just sore... and your clothing, it's rough..."

"Would you prefer I take them off?"

I stare at him, willing my face to be unreadable. Of course I don't want him to take them off.

"I'll take that as an embarrassed 'yes', Theta." What is wrong with him? What makes him think that I want this? I consider turning away as he gets off me to shed what little clothing he has. But I daren't. That would give him access to my back, my backside....I don't want him sticking anything in there again. I am silent as he lays beside me, crossing his leg over my ankles, molding himself to my side.

"Why are you doing this? Why won't you just leave me alone?"I squirm, not comfortable with his closeness.

"You don't want to be alone, Theta. You're always alone, always searching for someone..." He starts up with the kisses again, nuzzling the side of my neck. I feel panic rising in my chest.

"I.. I don't want this..."

"But you do, Theta. I was in your mind... You need me. You were lonely, I'm... I'm fixing you. I'm making you mine."

I don't dignify his twisted logic with any response. "I don't want you. I don't... ah.. ugh..." I feel something poking me just above the hip. "A...M-Master... I doubt you've got a banana, so must you be -so- pleased to see me so uncomfortable?" I am repulsed.

"You don't like it? You caused it... you should take care of it...." An iron grip forces me to grasp his hot arousal. I feel sick, as he forces me to pump his shaft.

"Stop it! Stop it, this is wrong!" I try to pull away, but he just moans. I suddenly realize something vital. He has not bound me to the bed this time. My left hand slams into his temple as hard as I can manage as I dig my fingernails into his length, squeezing as hard as I can. I'd love to tear it off... he's screaming. It's good to hear him scream. It's justice.

"I AM TIMELORD VICTORIOUS!" I push him away, kneeling on the bed, hands balled into fists. He scrambles as he falls off the side, startled. I am The Doctor, and he cannot harm me.

When he stands back up, I see that he got off the bed on purpose. A gun was under the bed. The gun. My fists fall and loosen, I start to cry again.

"Tut tut. Theta, you were doing such a good job... now I'm going to have to punish you...." He sighs.

"No! No no no no no I'll be good, please, please K-... Please Master. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry...D-don't... not again... it still hurts! Please don't..." I shake, terrified, dropping my face to the bedspread, bowing before him, curled up tight. I'm so afraid. He runs the cool, blood stained metal along my spine, before pulling me close to him, pinning me with his body, his right hand still holding the gun as it crushes my left fingers into the pillow.

"This is your last chance, Theta... you've got to be good...Promise me you'll be good..."

"M-Meyopapa... I'll be good. I'll be very good, I promise..." I hate myself, but I move forward to nuzzle his chest. "I'll be so good..."

He presses the gun to my forehead, and I feel such fear as I have never felt before. My hearts are pounding out his rhythm harshly in my ears as he forces my head down against the pillow. He then trails the weapon down my chest, over my hips, making a cross on my pubic bone. He pauses.

"Open your legs a bit, Theta, and I won't hurt you..."

Tears stream down my face as I comply. "Please... please don't...AH!" I yelp and gasp as he takes my limp member in his mouth, the gun nestled gently under my testes. "I.. n-no, Master... this is... ohh.."

There are stirrings in my stomach. I haven't felt like this since my wife... since.. oh God no, this is different... this is... reluctant romance, assaulting arousal... oh God it feels so good and so bad and so dirty at the same time.

He purrs around me, pulling back to lick the tip. "Like that, Theta?"

"Y-Yes, Meyopapa..." There is no point denying that my body appreciates the attention. I am still fearful, a gun at my balls is hardly a comforting thing, but I can almost forget about it when he licks me. I find myself convulsing, gripping the sheets. "Ahn.... Wha-? Oh God what's happening?!"

The Master removes his mouth, stroking me lightly, teasingly... "You're on the verge of orgasm, that's all..."

Fires burn in my stomach, my hips twitch. This is humiliating, as I hear broken English and shattered Gallifreyan slip past my lips. Instead of getting rid of the throbbing arousal, finishing what he's started, he ties a ribbon at the base of my member."What...why are..." I whine. "That hurts..." It doesn't really hurt, not compared to what he could be doing, and I shut up.

"Such a lovely little present...." He touches himself, starting at me, and though I do not move I hate how his eyes traverse my body. He pulls his hands away, stroking my upper body, pulling a moan from my throat. He licks the outer shell of my ear.

"Touch me, Theta... As I was touching you..." Against my will, I find my hands moving to stroke his length, surprised at how soft the head is, petting it gently.

"Like this?" He seems to be enjoying himself, letting out small sighs...

"No.... harder... "

I put some confidence into my grip, milking it. I've milked cows before. Yes, just pretend this is a cow. Get it over with...I yelp as he grabs my hair, forcing my face into his groin. So much for milking a cow... timidly I wrap my lips around the head, and for an instant it occurs to me to bite. The click of the safety being turned off changes my mind, and I suckle frantically, clueless... I glance up at him, seeking approval. No! Seeking guidance. Yes, just guidance. I want to do this right, so he'll leave me alone.

His eyes are half closed, his moans low and continuous. He grips my hair harder, pulling me closer, thrusting deeper. I want to cough and gag, I can't breathe, and what sips I do manage to get of air are tainted by the musky scent of his blond curls and sweat. Panic, so much panic and fear. I try to pull away, unable to take this, and his hand moves from my hair to my throat, keeping me still and squeezing my stuffed windpipe. It's terrible, but his louder moans, echoing in my head as my vision blurs and blackens at the edges, tells me he's enjoying it. Ever atom of my will goes into not biting down as I start to pass out, jaw going slack.

I come too coughing, salty liquid dripping from my nose as I clear my lungs of... of The Master's semen. I feel so disgusting. Oh God it's in my mouth, my lungs, my throat. I can't vomit. I'm too... oh God this is terrible. My mind is so light, I'm.. I'm high? No, just lack of oxygen. A few brain cells with minor damage. I slowly realize he's petting my hair.

"Good job, Theta. Very good job... you've made me very happy..." He kisses my forehead chastely. I don't know where the gun is, but I do know it's not touching me or inside me... thank God for the small things."Tell me what you want, Theta.. what can I do for you?"

I squirm, part of my mind going to the gift-wrapped organ that's still stiff, being ignored... no. Stupid thought. There are more important things... "You can tell me why. I... I want to know why you've done all this today."

He smiles, embracing me and beginning to pet my swollen, pained part, making me whimper and squirm. He undoes the ribbon, tucking it behind my ear, in my hair. "You honestly don't know." He chuckles, using a firm grip, making my body arch.

"I... I h-have no idea... ahn...wh-why you'd keep u-us here... a-and wait s-so long..."

"Oh, so you don't mind, you wish I'd done it sooner..."

"AHN! I d-didn't s-say that!" I groan. "I j-just want to know... wh-why now? Why at all?"

"Ever the inquisitive child, Theta, Doctor... Why at all.. because I can. Because I've wanted to for years. Because I feel you want it to, even if you deny it to yourself."

My teeth dig into my lip, I taste blood, but that doesn't stop the white lights from forming behind my closed eyelids. "Wh-why now? If you've wanted for years, why wait a few months when you could have from day one?! OH GOD OhgodohgodDelae'ShounHerewego..."

He slows his pace just enough to keep me on the edge, leaning in to kiss my ear. "Because... Happy Otherstide. Happy Naming... Happy 'birthday', Doctor." And he resumes his pace, his cackles resonating through my mind and body as I spill seed onto his hand and sheets, screaming with rage and lust and pain. My birthday. The Gallifreyan Holiday of the Other. A -holy- day. And ... I cease to care as the waves of relaxation wash over me.

"Y-you right bloody wanker." I sigh, tired, and cling to him.

"That's a -Master-ful right bloody wanker, little one." He cuddles me, and I drift into sleep.


	4. Forced

Doctor Who fic, Master/Doctor, in the year that never was. The Master has some fun playing with the doctor, rated M for twisted torture and abuse. Will write more chapters if told to. Please Review, reviews are brain candy.

BBC owns these two, not me.

* * *

I wake slowly, my mind not wanting to leave this comfortable haze. His arm are around me. He's snoring. I'm free. I could run, I should run, I'll run, I'll go I'll go now and I'll be free. I gently remove his warm arms from around me, squirming out of bed, the floor cold against my feet. I consider for a second grabbing a discarded sheet from the floor... I settle instead for Saxon's abandoned pants. It feels good to have clothes. Pants and socks, no time for anything else. I start to tiptoe to freedom. I'll free Jack. Jack will get us out. Yes, this is a plan, it's forming, it's a baby, but it's on the way and it will grow to be big and strong and it will save us all.

"Where do you think you're going, little love? The bed grows so cold when you leave it...."

I freeze, swearing under my breath as I hazard a glance over my shoulder. He's not talking in his sleep. He's staring at me through the artificial twilight, his eyes glimmering with an unnatural glint, his insanity on the surface. I don't dare say anything, I'm caught like a deer in hypnotic headlights. He's going to abort the baby that is my idea, if I let him.

"You're not going anywhere. Come here, now. Be a good boy." He beckons with a long finger.

I stubbornly shake my head. I'm in his pants. If he chases after me, he'll be nude where it counts. Will he care? I don't know...but I certainly have an advantage. I take another step towards the door, afraid of what wrath I may incur, but hopeful for total freedom if I can just get out of this room, down the halls, to Jack.

"Theta... don't make me punish you."

I feel a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach, panic in my throat and trilling along my spine. Adrenaline is in my veins. The second he moves, I'll make a break for it. Our eyes are locked, and he is _not _pleased with the defiance he sees in me, I can tell, he's getting angry. Abruptly he throws off what minimal covering he had and stands. That's my cue, and I run as hard as I possibly can, socked feet silent on the floor of the valiant. I don't make it far. How could I expect myself to? Two hot meals and a nap does not a Time Lord restore. The floor comes up fast as he tackles into my back, my jaw hitting the floor hard as my arms are pinned to my sides, his clasped hands hitting the ground and digging into my stomach, a horizontal half-Heimlich. I taste blood and see stars, before I am crawling back to the bedroom, being led by my hair. Despite the failure, I know it was a noble attempt.

"That was very stupid of you, pet."

I don't dignify him with a response, earning another tug on my hair. I am triumphant. I got away, for however brief it was, I made _him_ run. I won there, a tiny battle. He doesn't _always_ have complete control. He lets his guard down and makes mistakes. Mistakes I'm going to pay for. He pushes me onto the bed, and secures me face up, stripping me of his pants and underwear in the process. My limbs are spread just past the angle of comfort, the stretching is mildly painful, but I don't give him the satisfaction of hearing me complain. I just glare.

"I don't have to play nice, you know. I could really damage you. I could just kill you, if you aren't going to be fun."

"You wouldn't." Despite all he's done to me, there is a silent understanding that we are the last. I cannot kill him, he cannot kill me. We are the last. We may hurt each other, we may tortured and perhaps he has it in himself to rape, but we are the final Time Lords. We cannot face the utter loneliness that comes with the removal of the other. Despite all he has put me through, I cannot believe that he would kill me, there is a line, he has to save me if I am being put through too much, if the risk becomes too high. "You wouldn't, you can't. You won't."

"Don't try me, Theta. If I am not kept pleased, if you do not obey me like a good little slave, then you will be killed. If you obey me than you shall be granted privileges, freedoms, symbols of equality and friendship. Continue to cross me and you will be beaten and killed. I'll hurt you, Theta. I'll break you into tiny pieces."

"I don't believe you." I continue with my defiant glare, earning myself a slap across the face, then a punch, then it's raining punches, he's hurting me everywhere. The pain is more than superficial, he's _hurting_ me.

"Believe me! Believe me now?!" He adds more venom to his attack, enraged. Pain, such pain, ribs snapping under his fists, against his feet as he stands to kick me. I'm _afraid_. He's going to kill me. He's going to -kill- me unless I comply to his demands. The fear just grows as I realize _he's not going to stop_. I find myself making peace with my Gods, sobbing hysterically, clinging to my life, clinging to my continued existence. Everything hurts so much, but the pain is vital, I need it.

"Please, stop! I'll be good, I'll be good!" I'm sobbing the words, I doubt they are clear enough to be understood.... he pauses and undoes one of my hands.

"Prove that you'll obey me. Take those tears, make them useful, put them between your legs. You'll want some form of lubrication before I have my way with you."

It just makes me cry harder, this humiliation, this pain. "I'd rather you kill me!" I shout. I don't want him, I don't want this mockery of intimacy, this caricature of love. I don't want him to take his enjoyment with my body, not while my soul still trapped inside it.

"Do you mean that, Theta?" He grips my throat, slams my skull off the headboard. My eyes cross from the impact, my ears ring. He does it again, and again. I find my free hand clawing at his wrist, I don't have any conscious part in my lips forming the word 'no'.

He releases me, backing up to watch my sobbing bruising body tremble as I cough and try to set my bearings, everything spinning, a blur. I can distantly hear my whimpering voice, pathetic and weak, begging and promising.

"I'll be good, I'll do it, I swear, I swear that I'll be good please don't kill me, please don't kill me, I love you, you want me to love you, I'll do whatever you want just please don't hurt me anymore, don't kill me, please don't kill me, I don't want to die, I don't want anymore pain, I don't want to be alone..." All drivel, spewing past my lips. I'm not really here. I'm in the light fixture above the bed. He doesn't care or notice, I'm safe here, just staring at it and letting my mind shrink away from my body. It looks like a painting, the way the shadows and brightness play on it. It can't be real, nothing that's real can look like that, can be that impartial and safe and serene.

He guides my fingers to my soaked cheeks, then pulls my wrist down. I touch without feeling, prepare myself without thought or effort. I'm numb, I'm accepting, this is simply being done, it's going to be okay because I'm not -really- here. He leans over me, kissing away spare tears before hitting me across the face hard, telling me that I'm not allowed to cry anymore, that it's not proper to be bawling while having someone make love to you.

I obey, I blink away tears before they fall even as I hear and feel him enter me, as I feel myself being torn, broken. He plays with me, going slow enough, demanding that I enjoy myself. I force enthusiasm, surprise myself at the softness in my voice as I stutter out his name. I don't know what I am anymore, a time lord, a whore, an empty space up on these sheets, I just know that I don't want to be afraid anymore, I don't want to be in pain.

"Cum for me, Theta... God, you're so fucking tight...Cum on, I want you to. I order you...ah...yes, your hips, just like that..."

"I c-can't...M-Master, I j-just c-can't..." I reach up to stroke his face, but his iron grip closes around my wrist, guiding my hand to my member.

"Just -do- it."

So I do. I writhe under him, hot and panting, touching myself in new, strange ways, making my breath hitch. But I cannot take myself to that peak of pleasure, not like this. Not with this kind of pain all over, with snapped ribs and blackening eyes. It is enough though, enough that he fills me with liquid and pulls away, panting. I stop touching, assuming that I get a reprise with his orgasm. I think wrong. He glances at me and I see the anger in his eyes.

"I...I'm sorry. I'm s-so sorry." I'm cowering, I don't even know what I've done. "Please don't hurt me."

He grasps my chin, forcing my eyes to his. The anger is replaced with a parental tenderness, a 'tough love' face. He's holding the gun again. Tears stream from my wide eyes."Theta. Theta Theta Theta... what -will- I do with you?" He sounds so exasperated, so disappointed. I feel so shamed, so scared.

"Please don't... don't hurt me... Please, M'sorry..."

"Relax...you're always so -Tense-, Theta..." He runs the gun along my thigh, leaving a line of filth and dried blood over the hand shaped bruises. I may be sick.

"M'trying, Master, I really am, I just -can't-."

"Relax...there are ways to make you, Theta. Ways to make you better, ways to make you perfect. You're mine, aren't you? My little toy to play with as I please?"

"Of c-course, Master."

"Then I can fix you as I see fit..." He presses the gun against my stomach, poking at my navel. The fear of it going off is an amazing distraction, Master is already uo to the second knuckle before I notice his intrusion, his seed and my blood a morbid and disgusting lubrication that works well, considering. He's reaching for something, past that small button of pleasure, ignoring it. His nails are long, painful, scratching my inner walls. HE finds what he wants, and starts taping out his rhythm, making me squirm in discomfort, pressing up against the gun. The weapon stops me from being able to move too far away from his strumming fingers. "Amazing the way the body works, isn't it Theta. Seminal vesicles can be milked, sperm harvested, there's no real need for pleasure and intimacy to have anything to do with it."

I whimper out what could be taken as an agreement if that is what he's looking for, staring down in morbid fascination as I leak out whiteness, not spurting like the pleasurable and hazy experience of last time, just painful and ... bad feeling. Just _bad_. But it satisfies Master. That's what matters.

He removes his fingers and wipes the semen on the gun, admiring the drying globs of white with a twisted look. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted. Three Toclofane burst into the room. Funny, the Toclofane are supposed to be the boogie men of Gallifrey. These orbs aren't as scary as they should be, they aren't nearly as scary as the Master is. He's the real Toclofane, not these metal creatures.

"Master, Master!" The childish sounding one is their current spokesperson. I almost find it within myself to smile. They fly in a chipper formation, jumpy as they hover. The Master is annoyed, he throws a sheet over my form and pulls on a robe, pocketing the gun.

"Yes? What the bloody hell is it?"

"We have the Doctor!"

They what? Those words ring in my head as I'm taken to go by chained to a wall, near Jack, my playtime with the Master suddenly finished. It must be early morning, now, the day after Otherstide... I shake my head, ignoring Jack's questions and concern. They have the Doctor...what do they mean?I'm a discarded doll now, with so many questions that I know won't be answered... I curl up as best I can, back against the wall, arms above my head, and try to sleep.


	5. Trio

Doctor Who fic, Master/Doctor, in the year that never was. The Master has some fun playing with the doctor, rated M for twisted torture and abuse. Will write more chapters if told to.

BBC owns these two, not me.

Sorry for the delay! I was in a bit of an accident, and then I was out of town with family for like a month. I'm back!

* * *

I left the doctor chained up near Jack. I wonder if they'll plan an escape. _One Two Three Four One Two Three Four. _I don't care, I don't care. I'm going to dismantle these stupid paradoxical humans if they don't start making sense. _One Two Three Four One Two Three Four. _Stupid humans. Stupid Toclofane.

"What do you mean? I _have_ the doctor. I'd just _finished_ 'having' the doctor when you came and made a mess of things!" _One Two Three Four One Two Three Four.  
_

The deeper voiced sphere swoops forward. "X chromosome 100% match. We have found The Doctor."

The youngest one cuts in front of the deeper voiced one again. "We filmed her and subdued her and I didn't cut on her even one little bit! She's ever so pretty. Master pleased? "

"She? What the... Let me see her. Where is she?"

The Toclofane get in a specific formation and project a three dimensional hologram. She _is _pretty. _One Two Three Four One Two Three Four. _She's feisty. A blonde. She has his eyes... She takes after his fifth incarnation mostly... very pretty... And the clever little balls of metal have locked her in a warehouse. I'll have to go collect her. _One Two Three Four One Two Three Four. _Ohhh yes I'll collect her, and find out what's what... _One Two Three Four One Two Three Four.  
_

_

* * *

"_Psst. Doctor!" It's not use. This is such a change in schedule though... and I saw the Master in a dressing gown. The hell is going on around here... The Doctor reeks of sex, the toclowhatevers are humming to themselves, and no one's telling me a damned thing! "Doctor! C'mon, Wake up!" He's against the wall like a ragdoll... eyes closed and probably sleeping. Poor bastard looks a mess. Why would he be put out here? We could plot our way out. "DOCTOR!" So much for whispering.

"Ehhn... what?" He blinks blearily at me.

"What's going on?"

"... My bum hurts."

... "Oh. Sorry." Shit. What am I supposed to say to that? "In time it'll be better."

"No it won't."

Shit Shit Shit he's -crying-! "D-Doctor, pull yourself together. We need a plan. We need that great big brain of yours to do some thinking.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Okay, that's still thinking, let's refine it a bit. You're an Alien, what assets does that give us?"

"I've got two hearts, and both of them are burning..."

"Two hearts.. good, but not good enough.. burning? Fire? Fire's good. Fire can be great."

"Th-they used to call me Destroyer of Worlds. Did you know that?"

"Destroyer of Worlds. Catchy. Let's bring a little of that World Destroying Hellfire the Master's way, hmm? Yeah, let's give him What-for and all that British... stuff."

"M-Meyopapa... " And he's crying again. What the hell did he just say? Something papa. His dad?

"Pull yourself together, Doctor! We -need- you!"

"I k-killed someone f-for him."

"...Recently?"

"Wh-When we were kids... when we were r-really little. B-Before he was c-crazy, before he b-became like this..."

...Okay. Okay, the doctor's not really himself right now. He's clearly been ... hurt. Yes, let's stick with 'hurt'.

"W-We w-were f-f...f-... c-classmates. And a b-b-b-bully was h-hurting him. R-real bad. And... and I k-killed the k-kid wh-who was hurting my b-best f-..."

He interrupts himself with broken sobs. Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

"Who's team are you on?"I don't mean to sound so demanding, it just happens. I need to know that he's going to fight with me, not against me here. That he wants to be free just as much as I do.

"T-team? Ohh God Jack it hurts." More sobbing.

"Yes, team! Oh forget it... This is useless." It's like talking to a four year old who's dog just died about the stock market. He's too distracted by the pain and grief to help me cobble together a decent plan. Poor bastard.

* * *

Oh God it hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts why can't I just _die_ and be alone and why does Jack keep _talking_ at me can't he see that I hurt? Can't he see that I'm scared and alone and that my world has come crashing down around my ears? Does he know what happened? Can he tell? Oh God I see how he's looking at me, he can tell what happened. I've got to stop crying. I can't. Oh God I want to stop crying but I'm so sad and afraid and what did the toclofane mean when they said they found me? Was it that they saw that I wasn't really there for what happened? Did they see me, up by the light fixture? No, no no no you're not making any sense, Theta. No one calls me Theta. Doctor then. No, Doctors don't hurt people, and I hurt everyone around me. I killed someone when I was a kid. Why did I tell Jack that? Now he doesn't trust me. Does he hate me? Maybe he hates me. Good. I won't be able to hurt him if he hates me. He'd hate me more if he knew what The Master did to me. He'd hate me because Meyopapa called it making love and even if it hurt that means that he likes me or loves me in his own perverse way and why should Jack trust someone who has been in the bed with the enemy, hmm?

Oh Pazithi Gallifreya. Oh no. I've gone paranoid. I'm a sniffling little paranoia case. I've got to man up about this. I've got to stop crying.

I just _can't._


	6. Fight

Doctor Who fic, Master/Doctor, in the year that never was. The Master has some fun playing with the doctor, rated M for twisted torture and abuse. Will write more chapters if told to.

BBC owns these two, not me.

Sorry for the delay! I've gained a new roommate of sorts, lots of drama.. I'm back!

Also, it was pointed out to me how ridiculous the Jenny stuff was, so I fixed it.

* * *

The futurekind are out of their minds, _onetwothreefour onetwothreefour._ They found nothing, less than nothing. Just a chewed stick of gum. Doctor spit. Stupid little human freaks. A waste of my time. _Onetwothreefour onetwothreefour_. Lucy had the audacity to ask me where I had been. Stupid little human, not even that pretty. Empty headed _onetwothreefour onetwothreefour _little nitwit. Mostly harmless, not too bright. Perfect eyecandy. I let her know it's not her business what I do, haha. She's just to shut her mouth and _onetwothreefour onetwothreefour_ look pretty, so smile and nod and bob to the music of me destroying the universe with the perfect paradox. _Onetwothreefour onetwothreefour. _Tomorrow, I will change my schedule. Tomorrow, I will let Theta heal, I will let him think on his _onetwothreefour onetwothreefour _sins.

* * *

Koschei. It's the name that enters my mind when I wake from terrible nightmares, retching and shivering. It's the name that haunts my head as I try to rest. Meyopapa. Master. He is my Master, I am nothing but his pet, his plaything. I want to resign myself to it, but am too proud, to afraid. What am I, if not the doctor? Not who, but _what_? I feel broken. I can't cry anymore, there is nothing left inside to cry out about. Jack continues to babble his optimistic babbles, a buzzing bee in my ear. I hate him. I hate everything. I have no capacity for anything but hate.

Although...except... unwanted memories, drifting through my mind. His hands, warm water, all around. The smell home, wafting through the air, clean hair, the feeling of his fingertips caressing, touching, being gentle. A bowl of soup. A soft kiss. Small gestures of genuine affection, contrasted by pain and insanity.

"He's not Evil. Not entirely." I don't mean to say the words aloud, but Jack's head whips around to stare at me in shock and disdain. I cringe.

* * *

I watch the Doctor cringe. He looks like a child, a confused child. I realize, quite suddenly, that I'm older than him. A lot older than him. That I have waited so long, doubled back, lived and lived and lived, waiting for him, and in the waiting, aged. Not physically, but still. My soul is old, and tired. "Maybe it's just the North American in me that wants to demonize him. It makes life easier to pretend there are absolutes. I am pretending that he is Evil, because that makes it easier to want to crush him. You do want to crush him, don't you doctor?"

"I want to forget." He mumbles.

"Forgetting will not win this war. People are dying down there, by the millions. Take up arms or you are no better than the genocidal monster who is ordering the killings. All it takes for evil to prevail is for good men to stand by and do nothing, Doctor. You are a good man, Doctor. And you must fight."

Great. He's sobbing again. It's going to be a long day.


End file.
